I do a little dance. “Spencer Stark liiiiikes me.”
“Get in the car jackass.”
I give him my cheesiest grin and say, “Yeah, we better go before you push a toddler to the ground defending my honor. Because you liiiiike me.”
“I'm leaving you here,” he grumbles.
I scurry to open the passenger side because he definitely would lock the door and drive off. Being careful with my leg, I ease myself in and shut the door. Spence is just staring out the windshield. I grip his thigh and gently, more seriously say, “Thank you.”
Spence turns to me and grips my chin. God, he loves doing that. I think he just likes dipping his thumb in my chin dimple. Then he rubs his thumb over my lips and says, “Nobody fucks with my pretty boy.”
Help. Me.
Forty
Crash Into Me
Ryan
We manage to make it back to the condo undetected. I know this privacy bubble can't last forever, but I'm going to milk it as long as I possibly can.
After we put the groceries away, Spence threw me on the couch and gave me the most mind-bending blowjob I've ever experienced. It wasn't just physical. It felt like his tongue was trying to communicate everything he doesn't know how to say out loud: need, fear, possession, affection. Maybe even something dangerously close to love.
The changes have been noticeable, though. He wants to let go, to let me in. He just doesn't know how. I know he's been through some serious shit. It's written all over his heart, in the way he freezes after moments of vulnerability, in the way his eyes sometimes go distant when I touch him too gently, in how badly he wants connection while simultaneously bracing for impact every time he gets close to it. I won't push. I'm just going to continue to show up for him, to silently let him know he can trust me. He's almost there. I can feel it.
I mean, I have self-respect. I'm not going to accept less than I deserve, and if he remains resistant forever, I have no problem putting him on the spot about the possibility of a future, because when I think about my future… he’s it.
The realization should probably terrify me. Instead, it makes me smile like an idiot as I walk out of his master bathroom with a towel wrapped around my waist.
Spence is standing at the end of the bed in his own towel, water glistening on his perfect chest while he lays clothes outacross the comforter. Jesus Christ. How does one man look this good fully clothed, half clothed, soaking wet, pissed off, emotionally constipated, or threatening bodily harm?
He glances up at me, then gestures toward the bed. “I picked an outfit for you. I washed the good jeans you had here. This dress shirt and cashmere of mine should fit you.” He clears his throat. “I'll grab some shoes too. We're the same size.”
He sounds nervous. It is the cutest fucking thing I've ever witnessed. I step closer and waggle my brows. “You just want to see me in your clothes, don't you?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “I wouldn't hate it. I know you’ll wear it well.” Then his fingers slip between the towel and my hip. One flick of his wrist and the towel drops to the floor. My dick bobs free between us. Spence's eyes darken instantly.
“But” he says roughly, gaze dragging over my body, “you wear nothing so well.”
I swallow hard and shake my head slowly. “My sisters are going to be here soon. You better stop looking at me like that, baby.”
His eyes flare. Oh. That landed.
“Yeah, that's right, Spence,” I tease softly. “I called youbaby. And I'm not taking it back.”
His jaw tightens. Then he points at the clothes on the bed. “Get dressed before I take you over my knee.”
I sigh dramatically. “Promises, promises.”
His nostrils flare.
“I'm going to get dressed in the closet,” he grits out. “I can't be near your body right now.”
My grin splits my face in half as I grab the clothes and start to dress as he stalks off.
The jeans fit perfectly. The dress shirt is a little snug across my chest and biceps, but it works. Then I pull the black cashmere sweater over my head and groan softly.
“Jesus,” I mutter to myself. “I need to spend more money on clothes.”
